You stare into the cauldron, clearly frustrated. You have spent months going through unfinished potions that Snäpe never completed before he passed away.

"It’s not working," you mutter, gripping the stirring rod tightly.

"Add 2 more drops of moondew essence,” you hear your father’s voice clearly in your mind.

You remember the advice he’d always told you: All great Potions Masters know that measurements are adaptable, not absolutes.

As you continue working, the guys file in, having been searching all over the castle for you.

"Still trying to perfect perfection, I see," Tom muses.

You sigh heavily. "I do not need distractions now."

Theo picks up a glass vial. "Distractions? Us? Since when are we—" The vial slips through his fingers and shatters on the stone floor.

You close your eyes for a brief moment. "Theo, kindly refrain from destroying anything else."

Draco steps forward, squinting at your cauldron and notes. "You’re using the wrong measurement for the serpent's breath root."

You ignore him. "My father used to say, ‘Measurements are adaptable, not absolutes’."

Enzo chuckles from the corner. "That sounds like something Mattheo would say right before he blows up half the castle."

Mattheo glares at Enzo. "I think you have me confused with Seamus."

ReguIus smirks slightly. "No? Then, care to explain what happened in FiIch’s office last week?"

Mattheo shrugs. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Draco attempts to step in again. "But if you’d just—"

"If I need advice on hair dye, MaIfoy, I’ll come to you," you snap as BIaise stifles a laugh.

Draco’s icy glare settles on him. "Amused, BIaise?"

"Yeah," BIaise responds smoothly.

The room quiets as a faint noise echoes from your cauldron. Everyone is still as you lean in to inspect your work.

Your eyes soften. "I’ve done it."

"Well done," Tom finally says. “Your father would be proud.”

“Always,” you hear Snäpe say clearly.”